<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Just Freaks, Like You, and Me (I Know a Place) by braigwen_s</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28281717">Just Freaks, Like You, and Me (I Know a Place)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/braigwen_s/pseuds/braigwen_s'>braigwen_s</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Discworld - Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Autistic Havelock Vetinari, Autistic Rufus Drumknott, Autistic Shutdowns, Autistic Sybil Ramkin, Canon-Typical Ableism, Extrospection, Found Family, Gen, Introspection, Rated T for Brief Mention of Not Wanting To Have Sex, Which is Thus a Mention Of Sex, autistic characters, implied/referenced eating disorder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:54:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,967</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28281717</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/braigwen_s/pseuds/braigwen_s</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>His Lordship did, Rufus had observed, have many traits most of the populace passed off as appropriately Tyrannical quirks, and thus never really considered, much like how most of the populace assumed the Lady Ramkin’s interests were natural due to her wealth and high breeding, and not because she understood dragons more than humans.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rufus Drumknott &amp; Havelock Vetinari, Rufus Drumknott &amp; Sybil Ramkin, Sybil Ramkin &amp; Havelock Vetinari</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Just Freaks, Like You, and Me (I Know a Place)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title is from "Freaks" by Jordan Clarke.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It is too loud,” said His Lordship, and Rufus crossed the office to slide the curtains shut, blinking through his glasses as he adjusted to the low-light. Enough still filtered through from the edges of the fabric that His Lordship would still be able to read, though Rufus would not. “The majority of the noise is not entering through the window,” His Lordship observed.</p><p>Rufus replied “When I’m over-stimulated, I find that shutting out one stimulus does something to ease it, regardless of the irritant.”</p><p>His Lordship breathed a little more forcefully than normal, which meant that if he had more energy or willingness to speak, he would have made a humming sound, or even a brief comment. Rufus bowed the top half of his torso, which meant that he would be leaving the room and His Lordship if he had no further instruction or task. His Lordship gave no acknowledgement of this, which meant that Rufus could go.</p><p>His Lordship didn’t collect pins, which was the stereotype for people with minds like his and Rufus’s, but he did, Rufus had observed, have many traits most of the populace passed off as appropriately Tyrannical quirks, and thus never really considered, much like how most of the populace assumed the Lady Ramkin’s interests were natural due to her wealth and high breeding, and not because she understood dragons more than humans. Even His Lordship finding bright light painful served to fuel rumours about vampirism, not real speculation that his mind might work differently. People knew his mind worked differently, but thought … what? That it was just that he was evil?</p><p>Rufus rarely expressed anger, but people insulting His Lordship, or thinking him truly evil, drove him to fuming at his desk, and holding his pencil tightly enough his hand went white. It was partially the insult to Rufus, by association of it – they were both … not like other people, in the ways that they thought and naturally went about things, and Rufus did not like it implied that he himself was evil. More than that, though, he cared about His Lordship, and it always hurt to see him spoken of poorly. Indeed, Rufus and His Lordship had become… he hesitated to say ‘co-dependant,’ because His Lordship could find another Head Clerk and secretary, but Rufus could never find a new Patrician. Thus, ‘dependant’; Rufus was dependant on His Lordship.</p><p>He would never tell this to anyone, if he did have somebody that he could tell. For one thing, all else aside, it would be a breach of trust, and he would never do such a thing. For another thing… well, nobody else would understand. They would assume Rufus merely had an overdeveloped sense of duty, or take a carnal perspective and assume there was some kind of sexual and/or romantic relationship between them. There was not, and indeed the very concept repulsed Rufus. It was not like that at all, and indeed it was so much not like that the suggestion jarred him, like somebody insisting the sky were made up not of air but of jelly.</p><p>So, if Rufus were forced to apply a word to how he felt about His Lordship, he would probably use ‘loyal’. If pressured further, for a noun instead of an adjective, the most he could stake would be ‘employer’. His Lordship was not quite Rufus’ friend, and not quite Rufus’ mentor, not quite Rufus’ home, and not quite Rufus’ family member (whether that be parent, brother, cousin, et cetera). At the same time, though, he was… adjacent to all these things. He was something similar to Rufus’ friend, something similar to Rufus’ mentor, something similar to Rufus’ home, and something similar to Rufus’ parent or brother or cousin. There wasn’t really a word for it, Rufus was sure, because he had done extensive research on the concept; he had scoured dictionaries, and researched terms in other languages and cultures, and even braved Unseen University’s library. The closest he had found was a word in Dwarfish that suggested a combination of apprentice, adopted son, business partner, and orthodontist. That word had interested him, and he’d asked His Lordship, an expert linguist, about it.</p><p>“Hm?” he’d said. “Oh, that’s because of the bread. Why did you want to know, is someone bringing one to a meeting?”</p><p>“I was just curious, my lord,” he had replied, and picked up a file from His Lordship’s desk, and that had been all there had been about that matter.</p><p>All that was to say: Rufus cared deeply about His Lordship. When Rufus had started at his job, he had cared deeply about the welfare of the city. Over time, and as he grew in experience, that had become the City; he had picked up the personification from His Lordship, and a shift had taken place within Rufus’ own vocabulary. As he continued at his job, which was growing with him, taking new responsibilities and privileges and shows of trust, and power over other people, his perception of the City became inextricably tied into his perception of His Lordship. And, then, as the significance of the welfare of the city (or City) had waxed into his life, it waned also, replaced by the significance of the welfare of His Lordship.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Havelock twirled a quill pen backwards and forwards, held between the knuckles of his index and middle finger. He was thinking about Sybil Ramkin.</p><p>Sybil Ramkin had learned how to feel small, but she had not learned how to look it. Havelock Vetinari was the other way around. He had learned to go unseen, and to trick people into underestimating him, but he had always known he was, metaphorically, a giant. Sybil loved swamp dragons, Havelock loved dogs. They both loved Samuel Vimes.</p><p>They were too similar to be so different they got along, and too different to get along because they were similar. If anything, they were foils, in the literary sense, balanced, two sides of a coin or an equation.</p><p>He was also thinking about Rufus Drumknott. Rufus Drumknott was … Rufus Drumknott had learned both, to feel small and to look small. Havelock was not entirely certain whether Drumknott had attached himself to him or vice versa, but he was sort of like Wuffles. Not in a cruel way, not in a demeaning way; just that Havelock understood him, and he wasn’t wearying in the same that other people were, and he needed Havelock and provided invaluable support in return.</p><p>Drumknott was different to Vimes, in that way. Vimes was a different sort of like-a-dog, and Havelock thought about that a lot, about what Downey had called him when they were adolescents, and if that really was what he was. He thought a lot about whether he was truly open-minded about non-human species, or if he had just so often been alienated by humans, and made to feel like something else, that he just regarded himself as non-human. He thought about what it meant that he so often viewed love from the perspective of dogs and owners, and whether it was wrong or merely accurate that he always thought he was the owner. And he thought a lot about if it meant that he believed no-one would willingly love him unless they depended on him, and about the ethics of it.</p><p>He knew people compared him to wading birds, which was another not-similarity not-difference he had with Sybil. They were both mocked for their body shape; it was merely that the shapes were different. (They were both tall, though. Both large people. Metaphorical giants, in one way or another.)</p><p>He was going to visit Sybil later today. Merely to spend time together. The coach ride to and from the Palace would be painful, even the comparatively short distance to a destination on Scoone Avenue, although the time with his friend would be worth it. It was a factor to take into consideration for his schedule of the evening and the next day; he would have to make sure Drumknott adjusted it to account for the physical limitations of aggravated injury. Thinking about Drumknott in conjunction with visiting Sybil, a possibility occurred to him; he could introduce the two of them. It would be quite good for Drumknott, he thought.</p><p>Yes. He would do that.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Rufus had never before accompanied His Lordship away from the Palace when His Lordship was doing anything other than his duty. Likewise, Rufus had never before met the Lady Sybil Ramkin-Vimes, Lady Ramkin, Duchess of Ankh, although he had seen her and read extensively about her, but that was irrelevant to the point. The point was that, up until this very moment, Rufus had served the City of Ankh-Morpork, not its ruler. To be tasked to accompany him on a visit to a friend’s home sounded dangerously like something a normal ruler would demand. It was not, of course – it was not done from selfishness, as Rufus was already certain and would analyse later with the intent to verify – but they would both know that it could come across as such. It took a lot of trust, on the part of His Lordship. It took a lot of courage, on the part of His Lordship.</p><p>“You don’t look keen, Drumknott,” said His Lordship. Rufus could actually physically observe His Lordship following a grid pattern of scanning and swift eye movements to read Rufus’ expression like a book.</p><p>Rufus was ashamed that he had allowed emotion to display itself upon his face or his posture. “I dislike dragons,” he said, with his voice clipped.</p><p>His Lordship glanced sidelong at him. “Can you handle this fear for an hour?”</p><p>Rufus had not said that he was frightened, but then again, even most Guild leaders had worked out that ‘not tolerating’ mimes was a reflection of phobia; perhaps His Lordship did believe he feared swamp dragons. On the balance, however (not least because that belief would be inaccurate), it was more likely that His Lordship was referring not to fear of dragons but to this new expansion of duties.</p><p>All that aside: there was only one acceptable answer to His Lordship’s question. If Rufus said ‘no,’ he would be letting His Lordship down. He would not permit himself to do that; as a rule, he did not. “Of course, my lord,” he said.</p><p>“Good,” said His Lordship.</p><p>Thus it was that later that day, Rufus jumped down out of the coach, feeling the small impact-shock run up his legs from his shoes. His Lordship, being a tall person, had merely stepped out, but Rufus was not a tall person, and thus habitually jumped down from the coach. The coach did have fold-out stairs, but Rufus refused to use them. When he entered the coach, it was by climbing in; His Lordship had to <em>duck </em>to enter it. Rufus could enter the coach more smoothly than His Lordship, as he could deploy the full use of his right leg, but secretly he felt it ruder to do so than to make his way onto the seating like a fish swarming up a trellis, and thus almost all of the Palace Guards knew and snickered about his fish-swarming-trellis approach – or they had until His Lordship had Looked at them.</p><p>Rufus made haste to catch up with His Lordship, who was standing at the front door of the Ramkin residence, shifting his weight repeatedly from his left foot to his cane and vice versa. Rufus could not tell if this were due to impatience or to physical pain, but he approved of the fact that the Ramkin residence was obviously a safe enough environment for His Lordship to express it.</p><p>Lady Sybil Ramkin opened the door. Up closer than he had been to her before, Rufus noticed multiple small burn marks on her skin. “Havelock!” she proclaimed, joyously, though she had known to expect him. His Lordship gave her a little wave, almost <em>cheeky</em>, with his left hand, the right still balanced upon the top of his cane. Lady Ramkin put her hands on her hips, smiled wider, then removed her hands from her lips and enveloped His Lordship with a hug. Rufus had to push back the urge to signal to the Palace Guards standing at the corners of the coach; it had looked like she was moving to attack His Lordship. Even as it was, entirely benevolent, Rufus was sure, he looked liable to be accidentally snapped into pieces.</p><p>“You must be Mister Rufus Drumknott,” she said, beaming. It was disconcerting to be looked at; disconcerting to be noticed. He had grown used to both of these things from His Lordship, but Lady Ramkin was a new person. Indeed, the use of his forename was not something even His Lordship had deployed more than a very small amount of times. “Havelock speaks very highly of you,” she said; in a similar fashion, Rufus had only ever heard the Archancellor of Unseen University use His Lordship’s own forename.</p><p>Rufus bowed belatedly. Lady Ramkin waved this away. “Do come in, both of you!” she commanded. His Lordship acquiesced to the command, and Rufus fell into his usual place shadowing His Lordship. The first thing he noticed entering the house was that the smell of dragon was intense. The second thing he noticed was that the décor was a mis-match of centuries-old, more recent and evidently Lady Ramkin’s influence, and within the last few years and evidently Commander Vimes. The latter seemed mostly to be made from cardboard that almost grinned with defiance. Rufus was fairly sure it caught his eye and tried to wink.</p><p>After they were seated, and some rather predictable social pleasantries had been dutifully exchanged according to their formula, Lady Ramkin looked at Rufus. “Has he been eating?” she asked him.</p><p>Rufus picked up his own heartrate spiking. He was not sure he wanted to answer such a question; he was sure that it would not be appropriate to do so. He was also not sure he did not want to answer such a question. He looked at His Lordship. His Lordship had closed his eyes, looking very tired and quite resigned. Rufus only rarely had seen such freedom to emote on His Lordship’s face. He reminded himself that, evidently, for His Lordship, this building and company were as safe as a building or company could get. Rufus looked back at Lady Ramkin. One of her eyebrows had been raised. Whatever Rufus’ wishes may have been, he found himself unable to give response. His tongue felt affixed to the roof of his mouth. “ ,” he said.</p><p>Lady Ramkin seemed to take this as an answer, and Rufus wondered how much of the nonverbal communication His Lordship used to discuss things with Rufus when he did not wish to be overheard Lady Ramkin would understand. “I thought as much,” Lady Ramkin said, her tone damning. “He never does, you know. What would you like to eat, Mister Drumknott?”</p><p>Rufus could feel himself shaking. Perhaps he could not handle this for an hour. He had barely lasted for five minutes. “I am not used to being accounted for as an individual,” he said.</p><p>Lady Sybil made a sympathetic, motherly noise in her throat, and Rufus felt suddenly that the motherliness of it could sweep him away if he were not cautious.</p><p>To his utter mortification, His Lordship stood up, and walked the few steps over to Rufus. He leaned closer to Rufus, ensuring that Rufus’ back blocked a view of his lips from Lady Ramkin, and spoke quietly, enough that Lady Ramkin was unlikely to overhear.  "Sybil’s warmth can be rather intense,” said His Lordship. Unspoken was the understanding that neither His Lordship nor Rufus often received warmth at all. Rufus realised why he had been tasked to accompany His Lordship on this visit; it was for Rufus’ own benefit, not His Lordship’s. Rufus felt still more overwhelmed than he had just a moment prior. It must have been displayed on him clearly. His Lordship stood up again and moved away, giving him space. Lady Ramkin took her cue from him, and also remained silent. After three-and-a-quarter seconds, Rufus managed to gather himself.</p><p>“I apologise,” he said.</p><p>The expression of Lady Ramkin’s face was one of fury, and her voice was one that reminded Rufus that the Ramkin family had been warriors for centuries. “Who taught him this, Havelock?” she demanded. This, Rufus was more equipped to deal with; being spoken about was less confronting than being spoken to. “Who taught this young man to be sorry for his distress?”</p><p>His Lordship said “The same people that taught both you and I, Sybil. ‘Nice girls aren’t interested in mucky things.’ ‘Don’t take up space.’ ‘You think you know better than me? Then how about <em>you</em> teach the class.’”</p><p>“Oh,” said Lady Ramkin. “Those people. Society.” Her face of warrior’s fury was replaced by one of intimately felt, groove-worn pain. “Well, we try not to do that here, Rufus. We try to be better, and, gods help us, I’m fairly sure we’re succeeding. Whatever I’m doing that’s too much –”</p><p>His Lordship held up one finger, signalling an incorrect answer, or silence, or, most likely, both.</p><p>Lady Ramkin rephrased, this time leaving out the ‘I’ and the ‘too much’. “Whatever is difficult for you, you can tell us.”</p><p>Rufus looked between the two of them. He mentally added himself to the brief list of people he was observing. Three people; all people that were treated poorly due to the way that their minds worked. But, outside the front door, His Lordship had felt the freedom and security to repeatedly shift his weight in a kind of full-body rock. At length, he said “I would like a butternut* sandwich, please.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>* That's peanut butter, to the Roundworld.</p><p>Sybil's asking Rufus what he wants to eat because she's going to feed Havelock something she knows he can manage and she's obviously going to also feed Rufus, and she doesn't know what Rufus eats.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>